


whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same

by philindas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-27 21:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13257216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: Melinda May and Phil Coulson still meet at the Academy; still become partners.Only this time, Melinda was the one handpicked by Peggy Carter for the Communications Academy on the fast track to becoming a Team Leader, while Phil Coulson comes from spy history with a mother in the CIA and makes his way through the Operations Academy to become a specialist.Or, a role reversal AU.





	whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same

**Author's Note:**

> This is my philinda secret santa fic for fourforyouodo on tumblr! They asked for a role reversal au, and this has actually been something I've wanted to write for a very long time, but with a shortened time frame, I only had time for backstory and season one. I have changed some details a little bit, but I tried to stay as true to the original plot as I could! HUGE thanks to Ness for being my cheerleader and reading it over for me, this thing was a bit of a monster. Title is from Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.

Melinda May had never intended to become a spy- she’d had a quiet childhood in Pennsylvania with her mother after her father had died when she was young, and hadn’t really known where her life was going when she’d been approached by Peggy Carter just before high school graduation.

Which was how she found herself at SHIELD Academy, nervous wiping her hands on her pants and reminding herself she was supposed to be here- she was meant for this life, according to Peggy.

 _“You have more potential in your little finger than most people do in their entire body, darling,”_ she’d told her, sitting at their cluttered kitchen table with a cup of tea as her mother watched with knit eyebrows from the other chair.

But she’d packed her things with her, telling Melinda that she believed in her, and for the first time in a long time, Melinda felt like she had a purpose- she had something to strive for. Something to live and fight for.

On her third day, she meets Phil Coulson, and everything sort of- shifts. He’s quiet but witty and they get paired together in their Hand-to-Hand class, and it’s the sarcastic comments he makes under his breath to their incompetent professor that form their fast friendship.

She quickly learns that his mother is a spy in the CIA, and that spying had always been in his blood- though joining SHIELD instead of the agency had been a disappointment to his mother.

“She’ll like that I’m going into Operations, though,” Phil tells her one day, stretched out on her bed as she jots down notes in her notebook, leafing through her history textbook. “I’m on track to get into the Specialist training.”

“You’re one of the best sparrers in our class, I don’t doubt you will,” Melinda replies, looking up and smiling- Phil rolls onto his side, head on his hand as he watches her.

“And you’re going to be the head of the Communications Academy,” Phil continues, and Melinda rolls her eyes, cheeks turning pink as she turned her attention back to her book.

“Well, if you don’t start studying for Fury’s test tomorrow, you’re not getting into anything, Coulson,” Melinda says, and Phil heaves a sigh, but pulls out his own notebook, flipping open to his class notes. Melinda shakes her head at the measly page compared to her five, and moves over to the bed, stretching out next to him so he can read hers. “What would you do without me?”

“Flunk out,” Phil answers, and Melinda nudges his shoulder, flipping the textbook page and tapping a paragraph.

“Read that. It’ll be important.”

_

“Told you- head of the Communications Academy,” Phil teases her their graduation day, and Melinda flounces a little in her gown, holding her diploma aloft with pride.

“And you, Mr. Specialist,” she teases right back; Phil gives a mock bow, drawing a laugh from her. They both turn at the female voice calling Phil’s name- his mother stands, a hand lifted, and Melinda touches his arm. “Go. I’ll see you later.”

“No, come have dinner with us. I don’t want you to be alone,” Phil says, tugging her with him. After her mother’s death their sophomore year, she had no family left- Peggy checked in on her when she could, but she was the head of SHIELD now; she had other responsibilities.

“Melinda! I do hope you’re joining us for dinner,” Julie Coulson gave her a pleasant smile as they approached; she looked polished as always in a white linen suit, her red hair braided back away from her face, and Phil nodded.

“I invited her along. Where’s Dad?” he asked.

“Your father went to get the car, said he’d drive us,” Julie answered, just as a silver car pulled up, and Robert Coulson stuck his head out.

“Melinda! How wonderful that you’re joining us,” he beamed, and Melinda felt her face flush at the attention from Phil’s family. “Get in! We’ve got reservations in town.”

Phil’s hand dropped to Melinda’s back, and Phil’s parents began to bicker good-naturedly ahead of them, and Melinda allowed herself to sink into the family dynamic for just a moment.

_

Russia is _cold._

She doesn’t particularly want to be here, but it’s her mission, and her new level clearance has her in charge of more ops than ever. It should be a simple in-and-out mission- just grab the item and be on her way.

Except her Russian isn’t great, she’ll admit, and she can tell she’s losing the guard when he says he’ll have to call it in- and she’s too god damn cold to fight, especially in her suit. She opens her mouth in an attempt to smooth things over when the guard drops, and standing before her is none other than Phil Coulson, smirking at her.

“If that guy doesn’t have a cat, he’d be really confused,” he says, and Melinda frowns.

“Coulson? What the hell are you doing here, I didn’t request a specialist.”

“I go where I’m assigned,” he tells her, and Melinda squares her shoulders, bending to pick her passport back up from the passed out guard.

“Yeah, well I’ve got this handled,” she replies petulantly. “I don’t need you throwing off my game.”

“You have game?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow, and Melinda’s frown deepens.

“I have what some people, in certain parts of the world, refer to as game,” she tells him, and Phil smiles.

“It’s cute that you think that,” he says, and Melinda glares at him before stalking past him, headed for the buildings- she makes it a few steps before he stops her. “Car.”

She spins around as Phil hits the button to lift the gate, and Melinda gets back into the car, Phil in the passenger side as they head for the cluster of buildings ahead of them. They find the correct one and get out, Melinda grabbing her briefcase and flashlight, Phil covering her as they head for the door.

“So your plan was to just ask the guard to let you in?” he asks, and Melinda shrugs.

“You know how persuasive I can be,” she answers, and Phil scoffs, following her down the hallway.

“Can you even say ‘please open the door for me’ in Russian?” he asks, and Melinda looks back over her shoulder at him.

“Almost. But I do have a few choice words for _you_ right now,” she replies, and Phil gives her a look.

“You can’t bluff, Melinda,” he tells her. “You’ve got nine different tells- eyes darting all over the place.”

“That’s not true- I maintain eye contact at all times,” she counters, giving him an almost comical stare, eyes wide and unblinking. Phil gives a snort of amusement, shining his flashlight at her.

“You should try sunglasses,” he tells her, before opening a door, clearing the room before entering and shutting the door behind them. At the opposite end is a locked safe, and Melinda shines her flashlight at it, sighing heavily.

“You did this. You jinxed us. You literally willed this into existence,” she tells him before she goes over to it, setting the briefcase.

“What, they don’t cover safe cracking at the Communications Academy?” he teases, and Melinda rolls her eyes.

“Don’t worry, I have got this 100% under-” as she speaks, she drops the device in her hands, and Phil gives a short laugh. “Shut up. Don’t worry, I’m good with my hands.”

“Not how I remember it.”

“Okay here it comes,” Melinda turns to face him, folding her arms. “Never long before that comes up.”

“I remember you fumbling quite a bit,” Phil tells her, lifting an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know you that well back then, I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“You were undercover as my wife!”

“Right! And I knew we were on camera, so I had to sell that we were- you know-”

“Oh, you sold it. Took over two minutes to undo my belt and jeans,” Phil replies, and Melinda glares.

“That was an _act._ For the _camera_. You- I was- I was being a _lady_. What, do they not teach foreplay over at the Operations Academy?” she asks, and Phil raises an eyebrow.

“They teach us to commit to the mission. _All the way_ ,” Phil answers. Melinda twists her mouth, swallowing her next answer and turning back to the door.

“Well I’m sorry you took it so personally. Spy life can be confusing, I know. Now can I please have some light here?”

There’s a pause, and Phil points the flashlight at the door while Melinda works.

“That’s why I only date civilians,” he says, shrugging. “Y’know. Makes things simpler.”

“Agreed. Until they start asking questions.”

“Agreed. I seem to go through dates like paper towels,” he answers, and Melinda hides her amusement in her arm, focusing the laser on the door.

“Agreed. Or, so I’ve heard,” she finally says, ignoring Phil’s surprised look.

“We’ve got company,” he says at the sound of trucks, peeking out the window. “SVR agents- four of them. Four guys at once? Should be fun.”

Phil backs away from the window, and Melinda looks up. “What? No guns blazing tactics, Rambo, we’re spies not soldiers.”

“We’re agents- we do what has to be done,” Phil counters. “The mission comes before the man.”

“What are your orders anyway?” Melinda asks. “Are you here to back me up or retrieve the 0-8-4?”

“My orders don’t include telling you,” Phil says, a little bit of delight in his features as he folds his arms, looking down at her.

“What’s your clearance level now anyway?” she asks, and Phil shifts his stance.

“Three. Why, what are you?” he asks, and Melinda takes a little too much joy in answering.

“Mine’s classified. I’ll tell you what- I’ll stall Stalin and the gang, you stay here and finish getting the 0-8-4,” she hands him the laser, and Phil heaves a sigh as he takes it.

“Sure. What are you going to say to them anyway?”

“There’s a biohazard contamination- bio always works,” she says as she heads for the door, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Not inspiring confidence,” Phil deadpans, and Melinda ignores him.

She exits the building, lifting a hand as the men outside look up at her approach.

“Hey- hi! Please tell me one of you speaks English,” she starts, and one of the men gives a gruff “Da”. “Well that’s not really- whatever. Anyway, I’m with the UN taskforce here. Some biohazardous materials were unearthed on this site- very dangerous stuff.”

“You got papers?” the man asks, and Melinda reaches into her pocket, pulling it out.

“I do indeed,” she replies, handing it to him, the other men clustering around him to read it. She shivers a little in the cold, looking back at the building. “Come on Coulson.”

Looking back at the men, she leaned forward a little. “We all good here fellas? What else do you need- birth certificate? I think I’ve got a membership card to Gold’s Gym in here somewhere.”

“You have backup?”

“I think that’s the only copy I have on me,” she replies, pointing to the paper. “But there might be another one in the van.”

“Do you have partner?” the man rewords, and Melinda’s face scrunches up a little.

“Oh- eh. He’s not really a partner. More of a friend- coworker, really. Though to be honest, I’m starting to feel some tension, sexual and otherwise. Though I was actually thinking of taking a shot, but- I’m afraid it could go south.”

“You Americans talk too much.”

“It’s our greatest flaw,” she replies.

“Our unit has been made aware of an item on the premise, and we have been sent to retrieve it by any means necessary,” the man tells her, and suddenly Melinda has four guns trained on her. She’s jerked forward by her arms, and when a small crash comes from the inside of the building, they pull her in with them. The safe is open, but it’s empty, and there’s no sigh of Phil anywhere.

Tires squeal outside, and relief fills Melinda’s chest.

Once back outside, they can all see the tail lights of a care, and the Russian man gives a low grunt. “Looks like your partner was also given orders to retrieve the item by any means necessary. You were the cost.”

The next thing she knows, a rifle butt is being jammed between her eyes, and everything is black.

Melinda awakens in the back of a moving fan, head covered by a fabric hood. She tries to take stock of everything- her hands are tied, but her feet are loose.

The van is hit, and the men get out; there’s silence within a few moments, and then the sound of the side door opening and her hood is being lifted. Phil’s face smirks back at her, and Melinda lifts an eyebrow.

“What happened to the mission comes before the man?”

“Did you really think I was going to leave your defenseless ass behind?” he asked, and Melinda scoffed.

“Yes. Yes I 100% did.”

“I let you sweat a little,” Phil answered, cutting the ropes from her hands. “But I didn’t want to make you wait around forever.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Phil drives this time, and Melinda can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

“Say it,” he says, and Melinda folds her arms.

“No.”

“Say it.”

“I already did.”

“Yeah, but I’m not tired of hearing it yet,” Phil says, and Melinda rolls her eyes, hefting a sigh.

“Thank you for saving my ass back there.”

“You’re welcome,” Phil says, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “All in all- I could have asked for a worst assignment.”

“Wait- asked? So you _asked_ for this mission, huh?” Melinda turns to look at him, lips curving into a smirk. “Busted. So- you didn’t want the weekend free for quality time with random citizen number fourteen.”

Phil makes a noise of disgust, and Melinda echoes it back in question.

“Wow, you must really like this girl.”

“Maybe I’m tired of dating civilians,” Phil answers slowly.

“Well…maybe if it- doesn’t work out with this one you and I can talk about that. Over a drink,” Melinda replies just as slowly, keeping her gaze straight ahead.

“Chances are high,” Phil answers lightly. “This girl is really not my type.”

“Already started asking questions?”

“Oh yeah- she’s a shrink,” Phil replies, and Melinda moans in sympathy, drawing a laugh from Phil.

“Well- let me know if it goes horribly. Here’s hoping,” she tells him, and finally glances over at him, unable to keep a small smile from curving her lips as she looks at him. Phil glances back, his own mouth curled upwards, and Melinda looks forward again. “Eyes on the road.”

She can see Phil’s smile turn into a grin, and something in her chest purrs, filled with warmth and life and hope.

_

She rings the bell, picking up the paper and reading over the headlines; after a moment, she hears the customary “Come in, it’s open!”, and heads inside.

“Rosalind. Good morning. You really leave your front door unlocked,” Melinda says, taking the cup of tea from Phil’s wife and setting the paper down. The dark haired woman shrugs with a smile.

“We’ve got the best security system in the world. And you’re early- this is my time,” she reprimands her lightly, and Melinda looks up from where she’s pouring milk into her tea.

“I’m sorry.”

“So who are you going after? Am I about to get a new patient?” Rosalind asks, leaning back against the sink, and Melinda shrugs.

“Don’t know yet. But yeah, maybe.”

“Hey- no leaking operational secrets. Come on, May. We’re gonna be late,” Phil says as he walks back into the kitchen, shrugging into his jacket.

“I’m early!” she defends, and Rosalind laughs.

“Keep him safe out there,” she says, and Melinda scoffs.

“He’s supposed keep me safe,” she replies, and Phil smirks, sipping the last of his coffee. “I’ll meet you out front, Coulson.”

She walks to the front door, but she can’t help but hear Phil’s low “when I get home, we have some work to do” before she shuts the door behind her, and she realizes just how serious he and Rosalind had gotten about the family planning business. She’d known it was coming- they wouldn’t have gotten a huge house in the suburbs if they weren’t serious about kids, logically she’d known that, but suddenly becoming _Aunt Melinda_ was a reality she wasn’t quite ready for.

She’s got the car on and ready by the time Phil slips outside, getting into the passenger side with his travel mug of coffee and a trace of his wife’s lipstick still on his face.

“You’ve got something,” Melinda tells him, gesturing vaguely to his mouth, and Phil pulls down the visor, flushing a little as he wipes away the crimson smear from his lips.

The rest of the ride is quiet, and Phil heads up to the cockpit to get ready for the flight while Melinda goes to read over the paperwork once more. It’s a boring few hours ahead of them, and as soon the rest of their team filters onto the plane, Phil gets them into the air.

Once they’re in Bahrain, Phil joins Melinda in the belly of the plane.

“Is this really a gifted individual? What do we know?” he asks.

“Not much yet,” Melinda answers, showing him the thin file. “You know they’re retiring this fleet?”

“About time- SHIELD’s putting every dime into the Triskellion,” Phil tells her, flipping through the papers.

“Well- not all the dimes. Carter’s quietly started a new initiative. Says with this catch and release with powered people we start a team- take Earth’s mightiest, see if they’re heroes,” Melinda tells him, and Phil’s lips curl into a hint of smirk.

“And you mention this to me because you want my help,” he says, and Melinda shrugs.

“I know you’ve got that family planning thing,” she starts, and Phil shakes his head.

“And that’s not taking me from the field,” he assures her, and Melinda smiles.

“Good, ‘cause you’d be great,” she tells him. “And that way we can keep working together.”

At that Phil smiles, and a commotion from the other agents draws both their attentions.

“One mission at a time. Look alive.”

“Agent Hart,” Melinda says, and the senior agents nods in her direction.

“Melinda. Listen up, agents,” he says, drawing the other agents’ attention. “Meet Eva Belyakov.”

_

She knows they aren’t authorized. She knows it’s a dangerous plan. But as soon as she hears the signs, she makes the call.

“Go,” she tells Phil, who nods once before he slips out of the van. Melinda climbs out after him, and she watches him take off before she turns to the tanks that have arrived. “What are we saying this time- nuclear? Bio? Bio always works.”

She reaches into her jacket, pulling out her badge.

“My name is Melinda May. I represent the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division and you are about to enter a quarantined site,” she tells them, holding up her badge. The Bahraini soldier pushes her against the van, and she sighs as she calls over his shoulder. “You can’t send your men in their, Colonel, a biological weapon was deployed!”

The Colonel turns, looking at her.

“Nasty stuff. Flesh eating. Weapons deal gone wrong with the Russians. Give my team time to assess.”

“You said biological weapon?” the Colonel asks, and Melinda nods.

“Yes I did.”

_

She’s in motion the moment she hears the gunshot.

She doesn’t focus on anything- not until she bursts into the room and sees Phil- he’s on the ground, his back to her, the little girl from the courtyard’s body in his arms.

He’s silent when they take her body, and Melinda drapes his arm over her shoulders, taking his weight as they walk out of the building. She doesn’t try to get him to speak- doesn’t try to speak to him. She can feel the way his body is shaking against hers, and she squeezes his wrist harder in her hand.

As they exit the building, she can hear one of the other agents say ‘The Cavalry got our team out”, and something in her heart clenches at the way Phil stiffens as he limps beside her.

“Hey- every agent who walked out alive is because of you,” she reminds him, and Phil’s voice is hollow when he replies.

“The girl- I couldn’t save her.”

Melinda helps him sit on the back of the ambulance, and when he looks up at her, there are tears gleaming in normally-vibrant blue eyes.

“I couldn’t- she didn’t understand. I tried,” he whispers, and Melinda swallows hard.

“It’s alright,” she says softly. “You have to let the girl go, Phil. You did good. You have to let the girl go.”

Phil’s face begins to crumble, and something breaks- his eyes fill with tears, and Melinda pulls him to her chest as the floodgates open.

_

“What is _this?_ ” she bursts into Phil’s house, for once glad for the unlocked front door. The paper in her hand crumples in her agitated anger, and it takes her too long to realize the house is deathly silent.

She searches, finally finding Phil in the back room, the lights off and the television on mute, an old black and white playing. He’s clearly not paying attention, chin resting on his knees, and something in Melinda’s chest fractures further.

“Coulson,” she says softly, and he finally lifts his head. “Where’s Rosalind?”

Her partner shrugs, dropping his gaze.

“Not sure. Left a few days ago,” he replies quietly, and Melinda’s shoulders drop. She looks at him, heart in her throat, and holds up the paper.

“You’re leaving the field?” she asks, and Phil doesn’t look at her when he nods this time. “How?”

“I can’t do it anymore,” he whispers after a few long beats of silence, and Melinda feels her throat close up.

“We’re partners. We’re supposed to do this together,” Melinda can’t keep the emotion from her voice, and she sees Phil’s shoulders tighten. “You can’t _leave_ me.”

She watches the movement of Phil’s throat as he swallows, and the weight on her chest intensifies as the silence stretches on.

“I can’t, Melinda,” is all he says, volume barely even a whisper, and Melinda’s surprised the crack of her chest isn’t audible to him.

She can’t help the tears that stain her cheeks as she leaves the house, the door clicking loudly behind her after the echoing silence.

_

Tony Stark is exactly like she was expecting him to be: arrogant, annoying, and irritating.

But underneath she can tell he has a good heart, and she knows she wouldn’t be here unless Peggy had deemed it absolutely necessary. She can’t help but think about how she’s supposed to be here with her partner, though- how Phil is supposed to be here, enduring Tony’s jokes and throwing some of his own right back.

But Phil is in Administration, quiet and broken and sad, and the hole where he’s supposed to be gapes wide beside her.

So Melinda watches over Tony, and befriends Pepper, knowing exactly how the younger woman felt; to be in love with someone totally unattainable- someone who looked at you, and saw you, yet somehow managed to look right through the truth of your feelings.

She calls Andrew- the cellist she’d met in Portland while on assignment before being sent to babysit Stark, and who she’d allowed herself to fall for, just a little- and he’s so nice and kind and _good_ ; but he knows nothing about this life. Melinda attends one of his symphonies, and he’s an incredibly talented musician; she lets herself daydream for a moment about a life where she got to spent all her weekends like this. But then the news is splashed with videos of Ironman fighting in the city, and her real life comes crashing back to her, and she leaves Andrew with an open-ended promise to call him when she can- if she can.

By the end, Ironman is a hero- and Tony Stark is too. Melinda is called to New Mexico, but first she stops by the Triskelion.

“So the stories are true- Tony Stark _is_ an obnoxious asshole,” she says as she strides into Administration, unsurprised to find Phil the only one working so late at night. Phil doesn’t reply, but she can feel his smirk, so she keeps talking. “But he has a good heart- and I don’t mean the iron one.”

Phil looks up at her, and his lips are almost curved into a smile- a genuine one, too, with softness in the corners of his blue eyes.

“Missed my partner, though,” she says softly, and Phil’s gaze drops to his desk. His hands clench into fists, and Melinda swallows hard.

“I’m glad you stopped by,” he tells her after a moment, and she looks at her feet for a moment before she gives him a faint smile.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks, Coulson,” she murmurs, eyes on him for another few moments, tracing his jaw in a moment of weakness before she disappeared back down the hall, leaving him alone at his desk.

_

In retrospect, she should have expected this.

She got to meet Thor. She got to see Clint and Natasha again; ask Clint about Lila and Cooper, see how Laura was doing. She’d even taken the rare opportunity to call Phil- talk to him briefly, tell him about meeting Captain America; she’d even drawn a rare laugh from him. It had been good- it had felt like old times, just for a few heartbeats.

Like she could close her eyes, and picture him beside her, smiling like he used to.

And now she’s bleeding out, slumped on the floor, and she knows she’s dying- Loki’s scepter had done too much damage.

She hears footsteps, and forces her eyes open at the voice that speaks.

“May! Open your eyes for me, darling, come on- that’s it. Help’s coming,” Peggy is there when she’s able to force her eyes open, and Melinda gives a hint of a smile.

“I’m clocking out here, Director,” she manages to get out, blinking slowly, and she can distantly feel Peggy’s hand on her shoulder.

“No, no- not an option, keep your eyes open, Melinda, please,” Peggy shakes her, and Melinda’s eyes open back up despite the pain in her chest. The shocking part is that most of her is numb, though, and she knows that isn’t good. Her thoughts drift to Phil, and she’s grateful she called him earlier.

She can practically hear him telling her to stay awake. That what she’d done had been stupid- impressive, but stupid. It comforts her, and she closes her eyes once more.

She swears Phil is waiting for her, and she’s not scared anymore. Can feel peace wash over her, and see a warm, familiar smile and deep blue eyes guiding her towards a bright light.

“It’s okay, boss. This was never going to work…if they didn’t have something…to…” she wants to say more, means to say more, but her vision is suddenly dark, and her mouth is heavy and unresponsive no matter how hard she tries.

She turns her head, and the darkness swallows everything.

_

Tahiti is magical.

The beach is gorgeous, her masseuse is even more gorgeous, and it’s a much needed break from work and stress and _life_.

It distracts her from the brand new scar on her chest, its twin on her back that she can’t see without the aid of a mirror. She’d died- she knew she’d died, for a short period of time, before they’d been able to revive her, and the scar was a reminder of that. She felt _different_ , no matter how much they told her she wasn’t.

She returns to SHIELD, and Peggy gives her the Bus, and a stack of folders of agents capable of joining her team.

The only one she cares about is sitting behind a desk in Administration, though; she leaves Ward with Maria, and goes directly to his desk.

“Agent Coulson.”

“No,” he says, stopping his stapling, and she can’t help but smile softly.

“So you’ve been briefed.”

“I’m not going back in the field,” he tells her firmly, continuing to work.

“Yeah- ‘cause you’ve got such a nice set up here. You ever thought about adding a moat? Some alligators?” Melinda asks, and Phil looks up at her, lifting an eyebrow. “I just need you to drive the Bus. Liaise ground transpo, some onsite supervision. This isn’t a combat op.”

“Then you don’t need me,” Phil counters, setting a stack of papers aside.

“I do,” Melinda replies softly, rounding his desk. “We’ll be running ourselves. Picking the ops; making the calls- no red tape. This is actually where they make the red tape, isn’t it? I always wondered.”

Phil’s face creases into a small, genuine smile as he shakes his head fondly, and something in her chest warms.

“Phil.”

He looks up, and sighs before he speaks.

“You’re really just asking me to drive the Bus?”

“I’m not asking,” she says, starting back towards the door, her lips curling into a smirk. “But it’s a really nice Bus.”

 

_

She’s looking through her file when Phil’s voice comes from the doorway.

“How was Simmons?” he asks, and she sets the folder down, turning to face him.

“Resilient. You’d never know she almost died,” she answered, the scar on her chest seeming to burn at her words.

“An experience like that it…takes a while to sink in,” Phil replies, leaning against the doorframe. He nods towards the desk. “That her medical report?”

“Mine, actually. Bloodwork finally came back. I’m perfectly normal,” she tells him, fingers clenching into anxious fists at her sides. “A little heavy on the iron, but I think it’s too soon to adopt Ironman as my nickname.”

“I’m never calling you that,” Phil tells her, and there’s a hint of a smile playing around on his face.

“My doctors never requested any tests,” she confesses after a few moments. “I ordered them for myself, but- you knew that.”

Phil nods after a few moments, and Melinda swallows.

“This…piece of paper is telling me that everything is fine, but- I don’t feel fine. I feel different,” she looks up from the file to look at Phil, whose blue eyes are dark and trained on her, still standing in the doorway. He’s quiet for a few long moments before he steps forward.

“Take off your shirt,” he says softly, and Melinda’s eyes widen.

“Excuse me?” she asks, frozen, and Phil nods to her torso.

“Your shirt. Unbutton it,” he repeats, and Melinda turns towards him as he steps closer as her hand goes to her shirt, undoing the middle buttons on autopilot as she maintains eye contact with Phil.

Once they’re undone, Phil gently parts the fabric, revealing the raised scar now marring the skin over her heart. She can feel the heat of his hands, and she swallows, looking up at him as his gaze lifts from the gnarled red skin.

“Whether it was eight seconds, or forty- you died. There’s no way you can go through a trauma like that and not come out of it changed,” he tells her, voice soft but firm. “You know how long it’s taken me to…”

“I know,” Melinda says before he can even finish, and Phil’s lips quirk upwards briefly.

“The point of these things is to remind us that…there is no going back. There is only moving forward,” he tells her, and there’s a small, genuine smile on his face now as he looks at her. Warmth fills her chest, and she can only look at him. “You feel different because you _are_ different.”

Phil slowly does the buttons of her shirt back up, fingers brushing the backs of her hands lightly before he steps back.

“Get some rest, May,” he says softly, inclining his head. “The kids will be fine.”

He leaves without another word, his touch still warm on her skin.

_

“Seems more like a hardware issue, not a firmware one,” Skye tells her, clicking away on her computer. “And anyway, I should be with Hannah. No wonder she keeps screaming, you keep sending in the Cavalry you’re bound to get a reaction like that.”

“Don’t call him that,” Melinda says quietly, and Skye scoffs.

“Why not? No normal person can shoot a hundred Bahraini-”

“That’s not how it went down.”

“Whatever, twenty. I don’t understand-”

“He didn’t have a gun. None of us did,” Melinda interrupts her, and Skye stops typing, turning to look at her. “And it wasn’t a rescue, or an assault, or whatever they say at the Academy these days. We were the welcome wagon. And it went south.”

Skye’s lips part, and she leans forward, pressing her elbows to her knees.

“How many…”

“Plenty,” Melinda answers, and she swallows hard before she speaks. “A civilian girl and a couple of our guys were stuck inside a building, being held by the followers of this- gifted individual. Or worshippers; we never found out.”

“Coulson did,” Skye says softly, gaze dropping a little.

“He took it upon himself to get them out,” Melinda tells her. She moves to sit down, the weight of the story sticking in her throat, even after all these years. “Said he could fix the problem. So, he went in, crossed off the enemy force. Didn’t say how.”

“Did he lose anyone in there?” Skye asks, and it takes Melinda a moment to answer, sadness in her eyes.

“Himself.”

Skye’s face falls.

“Coulson used to be different. He was always quiet, he just- he was warm. Told jokes, talked about history- had the biggest crush on Captain America I’d ever seen,” Melinda can’t help the way her lips curve upwards, but there’s still sadness lining her face. “But when he walked out of that building, it was like that part of him was just gone. I tried to comfort him but- he wouldn’t tell me what had happened inside.”

“What did you say?” Skye asks.

“I said the words I thought he needed to hear.”

“That’s why you want him on the plane. To see if that person is still- in there, somewhere,” Skye says, but before Melinda can say anything, there’s a loud banging sound as the door to her office slams shut, causing Skye to jump.

“ _Let her out!_ ” Tobias Ford appears, and Melinda shakes her head.

“I can’t do that!” she tells him, and he roars, smashing the phone on her desk before disappearing. She turns to Skye. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

_

She watches as Skye takes off, running to Hannah; she waits, eyes on Phil as he slowly walks towards her.

“What did you say to him?” she asks quietly, and the rawness in Phil’s blue eyes makes her chest catch.

“Same words you said to me in Bahrain,” he answers, and his face in the back of the ambulance flashes before her eyes again. She watches him walk away, letting him go, feeling the long-familiar ache in her heart.

She’s examining the old watch they’d used to blow open the door at the Holotable when Skye comes up to her.

“Can Fitz repair it?” she asks, and Melinda shakes her head.

“Nah, this one’s a lost cause,” she tells her, and Skye’s smile softens just a touch.

“But Coulson isn’t,” the younger woman replies, and Melinda keeps her face neutral. “If anyone can bring him around, it’s you. You know what makes people tick- pun intended.”

“So do you,” Melinda says, and Skye’s eyebrows contract. “You see the good in them. You were a friend to Hannah, you can’t wait to get inside Coulson’s head- you were able to figure out Tobias without even trying.”

“I…guess I’m full of surprises,” Skye says, dipping her head with a hint of a smile.

“But this isn’t one of them. I wanted you to pay close attention to the Index and all of its processes because some day, you are going to be really good at it. Probably even the best.”

“Thanks,” Skye said, perking up a little bit, cheeks faintly stained pink.

“And I’ll even let you rename it,” Melinda teases, and Skye lets out a laugh.

“Good, because that name is super stupid,” she reminds her, and Melinda smiles.

“I know,” she says, walking past Skye. She pauses, throwing her next words over her shoulder. “You know…Coulson leaves the cockpit door unlocked during flight.”

She leaves to the sound of the wheels in Skye’s head turning, lips curled into a half-smile.

_

The image of the beach disappears as pain washes over her body, and the old, dusty room she’s in filters into view.

She remembers it all- Raina, the helicopter, the explosion. Being hooked up to this memory machine.

“It seems you passed out,” the man behind the torment speaks, setting his glass of water down. “Maybe you’re finally ready to tell us about the memories you’re seeing.”

“I saw…Dorothy Hamill. Winning Gold at the 76 Olympics. Awe-inspiring,” she says, and the man sighs in irritation, sitting forward.

“We’re going to turn the machine back on, and open your mind. It’s time to stop fighting it,” he tells her, and Melinda grits her teeth, digging her nails into her palms. “If you don’t, you won’t survive the process.”

“I’ll let you kill me before I give you anything. It seems you have a taste for that anyway- you murdered Mike Peterson, in front of his own son.”

“Mike Peterson chose that end,” the man replies, standing up. “We gave him his life, and his child unscathed. You’re just upset because that man’s death hits so close to home. Seeing a child lose their father at such a young age? As you did? A defining moment, most people would say.”

Melinda breathes deeply through her nose, the tang of blood in the air, and struggles to keep her heart rate calm.

“The clairvoyant saw that,” the man tells her, almost gleefully.

“I hate to break it to you, but your telepathic friend is a fraud- otherwise he’d know all these answers, and I wouldn’t be here,” Melinda tells him, and the man turns to pace, hands folded behind his back.

“This is true. It’s strange- my friend can see that you died. You went cold; your heart was torn to pieces. What the clairvoyant can’t see is what happened after- how they brought you back from the dead. For some reason, Agent May- you’re different. Now why is that?”

Melinda doesn’t answer; can’t answer. Questions filter through her own head, too many to sort through or try to make sense of. Questions she’d been asking herself for weeks, but had buried deep, deep down.

“So we’ll have to do this the hard way, it seems,” the man says, and the guard steps forward, a long object in his hands that crackles with electricity at the touch of a button extended.

_

She can feel everywhere they’ve beaten her.

She’s fairly certain she’s got a few bruised ribs, and her torso feels burned from the electric staffs they’ve been tasing her with. Blood is still leaking from her nose as well, making it harder to breathe, and she’s bone-deep exhausted.

Raina returns, and she half-pays attention to the conversation she has with the man in charge of her beatings, but she’s floating in and out of a dazed haze until there’s a thump, and she realizes the man is on the ground.

Gentle hands undo her bounds, helping her sit up. Raina hands her a damp cloth for her bloody nose, and disappears for a few moments while she cleans herself up- when she returns, she has a glass of water in her hands.

“It’s turning out to be an interesting day, isn’t it?” she says, handing her the glass, and Melinda lifts an eyebrow.

“So you’re my friend now?” she asks, and Raina tilts her head. “Because I’ve seen what you do to your friends.”

“Mr. Poe? He was a murderer, incapable of remorse,” Raina replies, turning to the computer, and Melinda watches her carefully.

“I was thinking more of Mike Peterson, and Chan Ho Yin.”

“I gave them what they asked for,” Raina answers, turning back to face him. “Mike wanted to be a hero to his son. Now he is.”

“Did Akela Amador want a bomb in her head?”

“The people you work for are just as capable of using cruel means to reach a justified end,” Raina counters, typing something into the computer.

“And who do you work for Raina? The clairvoyant?” Melinda asks, the cool of the water glass in her hand keeping her focused.

“Yes,” Raina answers, turning around.

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know. Today was the first day I’ve personally made contact. My heart’s still racing,” Raina’s voice is almost breathless, and Melinda’s mouth twitches.

“He has you building super soldiers.”

“The clairvoyant gives us guidance- formulas.”

“For what?” Melinda asks, and Raina’s eyebrows contract.

“For the changing world,” she says, a flourish to her words. “The world your organization brought upon us. We’re new to the business of what SHIELD has been doing for decades.”

“Why me?” Melinda asks, and Raina steps closer.

“We can’t bring our soldiers back to life,” she murmurs, and Melinda swallows. “But you were. We don’t know how- wouldn’t you like to know? What brought you back?”

Melinda looks away.

“I’d like to turn the machine back on,” Raina starts, and Melinda lifts her gaze back up to her. “If you resist- the waves will cook your brain. If you fall into it- you can surf them. Uncover your buried memories.”

“You will not get classified intel from me,” Melinda reaffirms, looking at Raina. “My team will find me.”

“I’m not interested in those secrets- the clairvoyant can look into any agency he wants. I simply want what you want- to uncover a different secret,” Raina tells her. “The secret that SHIELD is keeping from even you- their most dedicated agent. You’re clinging to the one thing you have, Agent May- fond memories of your recovery.”

“So this person you work for- they told you I died? And I have gaps in my memory? Did you ever think that maybe your boss is just a little too addicted to WebMD for their own good?” Melinda asks, and Raina looks at her for a moment before speaking.

“He also told me that you crave answers- that it keeps you up at night. That it troubles you that when you asked, you were denied answers. Isn’t that true?”

“I trust the system,” Melinda answers, sliding painfully off the machine bench. “They keep secrets for a reason.”

“But why would SHIELD keep details of your death from you? They’re your family- your _only_ family. Since the loss of your mother as well. After all this time- all this sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice is part of the job,” Melinda counters firmly, lifting her head and looking at Raina defiantly. “I would give my life-”

“You didn’t just give your life. You gave up your chance at a normal one. At love,” her voice softens on the last word, and Melinda clenches her jaw. “And he did love you, Agent May.”

“How could you know that?” she asks, unable to keep her voice steady.

“Do you miss him?” Raina asks, coming closer, arms folded. “You didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.”

“I couldn’t- I can’t,” Melinda starts, but Raina keeps talking.

“He cried for days after SHIELD told him you died. They shattered his heart with a lie. And now they’re lying to you.”

“No,” Melinda says, a tear slipping down her cheek. “No they’re not.”

“I know you don’t want to believe it. But you can’t tell me nothing makes you doubt. Makes you wonder- what happened in Tahiti?” Raina asks, so close Melinda can feel her breath on her cheek.

“It’s a magical place,” Melinda replies automatically, and something in her shifts. “I keep saying that.”

“Don’t you want to know why?” Raina asks, dark eyes wide and open, and Melinda is suddenly so _tired_.

She looks at the machine for a long, long moment before she speaks.

“Turn it on.”

_

“Let me die. Let me die, please let me die.”

This isn’t right. If this is what it takes to bring her back, she shouldn’t come back, she should stay dead. The world doesn’t need her this badly, she shouldn’t be alive if it takes rewiring her brain and blue liquid in her veins. She should be dead, she should die, she should-

“May! May, come back,” distantly, she feels hands take hers, and the vision is ripped away.

“Let me die,” she whispers again, brokenly, and she feels rough, familiar hands against her ankle. _Phil_.

“May,” Skye whispers, and Melinda swallows hard, wrenching herself from the vision fully and weakly squeezing the girl’s hands.

“Skye,” she murmurs, feeling Skye shudder against her. Hot tears drip against her wrists, and Phil’s hand stays at her ankle; she blinks swollen eyes open, her vision fuzzy as she looks at him.

She doesn’t think she’s imagining the raw pain in his blue eyes, but when she blinks to clear her sight, he’s moved to help her sit up, and she can’t see his face.

Her legs are too weak to stand once they get her upright; Phil takes her weight, sending Skye ahead to prepare the jet.

“I knew you’d find me,” Melinda murmurs softly, eyes sinking shut as she leaned against his shoulder. Phil’s chest rumbled with his reply.

“Someone had to.”

_

It can’t be true.

Phil wouldn’t double-cross her; couldn’t be dirty. There had to be a mistake. But too many things were adding up, and she can hear the discharge of a weapon as they enter the cargo bay.

“Put it down, Coulson!” she says, gun trained on Phil- on her partner. He lifts his gun to her, shaking his head.

“It’s not what you think, May. It’s just an Icer,” he says.

“This one’s not. You better tell me what the _hell_ is going on right now,” she says, grip tightening on the gun, still trained on Phil.

“I- I can’t,” he says, face pained, and he turns at the sound of the door below opening.

“You better listen to the lady, Agent Coulson,” Skye says, her own gun trained on Phil.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” he says, lifting his eyes back up to Melinda.

“Maybe not, but I know you’re not fast enough to take us both,” Skye tells him, and Phil’s eyes widen just a touch. He grinds his teeth for a moment before he starts to lower his gun.

“Look- I can explain everything. But not _here_ ,” he stresses, and Melinda lifts an eyebrow.

“Why not here? You have to check with someone first, using that encrypted phone in the cockpit?” Phil’s eyes widen at her words, and he glances down at Fitz, still ensconced in the lab. “Who’s on the other end of that line, Coulson?”

“I can’t tell you,” he says, and Melinda gives a bitter scoff.

“That’s okay. I think I know,” she replies. “It makes sense now, why Deathlok put Blake in critical condition but left you alive and well. Why he didn’t stick around to defend his boss. Why would he do that? Because that wasn’t his boss!”

“What are you talking about?” Phil asks, confusion in his features, and Melinda’s shoulders stiffen.

“Stop lying to me! Who do you answer to? Who is the real clairvoyant?” she yells, gun still on Phil, whose face is a mixture of confusion and concern.

Before he can answer, the plane shifts under their feet; they’re all thrown to the ground as the plane turns itself. It speeds up once it’s straight, and Melinda struggles back to her feet, gun back on Phil.

“What did you do? Where are we doing?” she asks harshly, and Phil shakes his head.

“I don’t know, I didn’t do this Melinda! I don’t know what’s happening here, I swear!” he exclaims, and Melinda grits her teeth.

“If you’re not doing this, then who is?” she asks, and Phil shrugs helplessly. “Drop the weapon, Coulson, and kick to the stairs. Now!”

“May…” Phil starts, but at the look on his face stops, dropping the Icer and kicking it over to the stairs.

“Back up- over there,” Melinda directs, coming down the stairs. She picked up the Icer, and pointed her gun at Phil. “Talk. Where did you reroute the plane to?”

“I told you, I didn’t do this. I didn’t set this new course, I swear,” Phil repeats, and Fitz scoffs.

“The plane’s turned itself around!”

“How is this happening then?” Skye asks above both Fitz and May’s voices, and Phil shrugs helplessly.

“HQ can override automated controls of the avionics, take us anywhere they want. Let me check the instrument panel-”

“No way!” Fitz yells from the lab, and Melinda shakes her head.

“You’re not going anywhere until you explain-”

“It’s not me!” Phil shouts, anger tingeing his voice this time.

“Why did you have an encrypted hard line?” Melinda asks after a few beats of silence, broken only by their heavy breathing.

“And why did you try to shoot me when we found it?” Fitz asks, and Phil’s fingers twitch.

“It was a dedicated channel to Director Carter. _That’s_ the truth,” he says, eyes locked with Melinda’s.

“Director Carter? I haven’t been able to get her on the line for weeks,” she says, eyebrows furrowing.

“You were reporting to her?” Skye asks, incredulous.

“That’s all I can tell you,” Phil says, and Fitz huffs.

“Oh, just come out with it!” he calls from the lab, beginning to pace behind the glass.

“That’s all you can tell us?” Melinda asks, anger in her voice, and Phil lifts his shoulders.

“I’m under orders,” he answers, and Melinda’s eyes widen. “Peggy will tell you.”

“Was this an order?” Fitz asks, pointing to the Icer bullets smashed against the glass, pain in his face. “To shoot me in the bloody head?”

“Hold on,” Melinda says, shaking her head. “We’re not headed to Carter anymore.”

“I don’t know where we’re headed. And I can’t get Carter on the line because Fitz _cut_ the line,” he says, irritation in his voice as he looks at the young engineer.

“Skye told me to!”

“Someone was talking to the clairvoyant, the _real_ clairvoyant,” Skye explained, and Phil’s eyes widened.

“You were in the walls Fitz- want to explain why you were tampering with the plane’s SAT cable?”

“Sure! Because that’s relevant. Don’t try to turn this around on _me_ ,” the Scot said, hands on his hips. Melinda turned to look at Fitz, gun still aimed at Phil.

“Fitz?”

“I was trying to speak to Simmons at the HUB,” the younger man admits, and Melinda’s eyebrows knit together.

“And you needed an encrypted line?” she asks, voice skeptical. “What’s so secretive?”

“You tell me!” Fitz exclaimed. “Simmons and I know you two have been whispering back and forth about the drug that saved your life, keeping things from us! Simmons is just trying to figure out how the whole thing works!”

At that Fitz began to pace anxiously, and Melinda swallowed, mouth dry.

“Fitz,” Phil starts slowly, concern in his voice. “Who is she talking to?”

Fitz’s lips parted, and Melinda moved closer.

“Fitz, open the door,” she said, and he shook his head.

“No, no way, not until we sort this out.”

“We can’t get anything sorted until you open the damn door!” May nearly shouted, turning her head. “Skye, get your laptop hooked up to our systems, see if there’s been any SHIELD communication. I want to know where this plane is headed and why.”

“May…” Phil stepped forward, and Melinda lifted her gun higher.

“You, stay put,” she said, keeping her jaw tight. She looked back at Fitz. “Tell me who Simmons is talking to, because if it isn’t someone we trust, she’s in serious danger.”

_

It feels wrong. Everything is off-balance and off-kilter and she hates every moment of Phil in cuffs in front of her.

“I have orders not to do this with anyone else present,” he says gruffly, opening the cabinet and looking back at her. The plane shifts, and Melinda looks at him.

“They’re taking out our guns,” she says. “Get Director Carter on the line or I’ll march you out there first.”

The words feel like acid on her tongue, but she keeps her face hard, and Phil brings the phone to his ear.

“Agent Phil Coulson. Voice command emergency protocol one. Emergency protocol one,” he says, and the phone starts to ring.

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice picks up, and his face creases.

“This is a X10 straight connection to Director Carter’s personal line,” he says. “Where is she?”

There’s a pause, and then the voice says “Director Carter is dead” moments before a shot rings out. Phil grunts in pain as a bullet hits, and Melinda tugs him to the ground, shielding him as more bullets fly around the cockpit.

_

“That was her direct line, Melinda,” Phil tells her, and Melinda focuses on digging the bullet out of his arm.

“So it’s real. That means it’s just you and me- unless there were other parties you reported to.”

“There weren’t,” he said, wincing as she pulled the metal from his bicep.

“Then come out with it. Peggy’s gone, we’re being shot at by our own people,” Melinda says as she wraps gauze around the wound.

“Peggy knew you’d want me to join up. Asked me to keep an eye on you,” he starts, looking at her as she bandages the wound.

“Looking for what?” she asks, too angry, and Phil swallows.

“Signs of physical or mental deterioration. To keep her updated. It’s that simple,” he says, and it hits her then.

“Did you know about Tahiti?” she asks, and Phil just looks at her, unable to speak as his gaze drops. “How could you do that to me? After everything we’ve been through? All the years spent together in ops?”

“She said it was essential, you couldn’t know,” Phil says, a trace of desperation in his voice.

“The time I spent sifting through the ashes with you in Bahrain? I gave you a second chance when I assembled this team-”

“I assembled this team!” he cuts her off, and she looks at him, face unreadable.

“What?” she asks, and Phil takes a breath.

“I evaluated what was needed and gave the assessment to Carter; she made the parameters for your team from it.”

“What was needed Coulson?”

“Someone who could repair your body. A technician who could reprogram your brain. And a specialist that could help me put you down if it had to be done,” Phil says, and the words hit her like freight trains. “But I didn’t do it for Peggy, I did it for you, to protect you, I-”

Phil cuts himself off, looking at her- his blue eyes are dark, boring into her, and she feels like she can’t breathe.

“You mean a lot to me- a lot. To hear you were dead…” Phil trails off, and Melinda’s throat closes up. “You may not believe me, but that’s the truth. And I have nothing to do with the clairvoyant, or this Hydra threat we’re up against. Hopefully this helps prove that.”

Melinda looks at him for a long moment, her chest torn up and raw, before finishing the bandage.

“I want to believe you. But you’ve used that against me this whole time,” she says, unable to lift her voice above a whisper. She feels Phil take a shuddering breath, and every part of her heart aches.

_

“Captain America has defeated the helicarriers at the Triskellion,” Hand says, standing before the plasma. “But his status is unknown.”

“And SHIELD has fallen,” Melinda says, something akin to defeat in her voice.

“Hydra factions have taken control of our East African headquarters and the Treehouse. And those are just the ones we know of,” she tells her.

“There’ll be a scramble- a power grab,” Melinda replies.

“I’ll head to the Fridge. At least that facility is secure,” Hand says, sighing.

“I don’t need to remind you how imperative it is that it stay that way,” Melinda tells her, and Hand nods.

“And I’ll find Agent Garrett the smallest, darkest cell in the icebox,” the redhead says, and Melinda cracks a faint smirk at that.

“I’d like to turn the key on that cell myself,” they both turn at Ward’s voice. He looks at Melinda. “If you don’t mind, ma’am.”

He comes forward, standing before them.

“He was my SO. I feel like- I should have known. It was my duty to-”

“No one knew,” Melinda cuts him off. “I didn’t know. That’s how he beat us- by being a friend.”

“I spent years with that bastard. Looked up to him. I want to- see him suffer,” Ward says, and Hand regards him for a moment before nodding.

“I don’t mind the company- and I can always use a man of your skills,” she says, turning back to Melinda. “Pick up the pieces here at the HUB if you can- and only communicate using one of these. You and I may be the highest ranking SHIELD agents who weren’t Hydra, or dead. Not that that means anything now. All we have is each other. So- stay in touch, Agent May.”

She extends her hand, and Melinda takes it, shaking firmly.

She watches Hand and Ward walk away, then goes to pick up the pieces of her team, and her plane.

_

“I should be flying this mission,” Melinda doesn’t look up from the hot water she’s pouring into the travel mug, tea bag already in place.

“I made another call. Stay here, get the fuel line repaired on the Bus,” she says, screwing the lid on as Phil stops in front of her.

“I remember when you brought Daniels in- how personal this is for you.”

“We don’t do personal- not anymore,” Melinda cuts him off, voice hard.

“Melinda- the polygraph cleared me!” Phil says, lifting his shoulders. “I’m not hiding anything!”

“You mean you’re not hiding anything else,” she corrects. “Unless you do know who’s really behind the Tahiti project.”

“I didn’t ask. I was ordered not to,” he replies, and Melinda’s grip on the travel mug tightens. “And you would have done the same thing. Our _job_ is to follow orders.”

“It’s also our job to determine right from wrong,” she reminds him. “Watching someone in agony, searching for the truth, not saying anything- that’s _wrong._ ”

“Look, I was just trying to be-”

“And don’t tell me it’s because you _care_ so damn much,” Melinda says, spinning back to face him after brushing by him. “Peggy’s no longer around, telling you what to do, so why are you here? You want some orders to follow? Follow mine, or find somewhere else to be.”

With that, she spins on her heel, and leaves the room; she can hear her heart beating in her ears, skin flushed with anger.

_

“Ma’am?” she looks up at Fitz’s voice, pulled from her thoughts. Seeing Andrew again had felt like a goodbye; like a door firmly closing. “Is everything okay?”

“He said I never lied to him,” she says, shrugging. “But today I did. But he’s alive, and safe- he can move on. Live his life.”

“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?” Fitz asks, and Melinda thinks for a moment before she answers.

“I might, some day. When there’s a chance he’ll understand,” she says. She swallows. “When we get back, I need to make things right with Coulson. How can I expect Andrew to forgive me when I’m not willing to do the same?”

Simmons walks into the compartment, and Melinda undoes her seatbelt.

“I’m going to check with Trip- see how long we’ve got left,” she says, leaving the two younger agents to talk.

_

When she unlocks her door, he’s leaning against the dresser, and something unclenches in her chest at the sight of him.

“I was hoping you’d come back,” she said quietly, the door shutting behind her with a soft click. “Ward is-”

“I know,” he says before she can finish, standing up straight and stepping towards her. “Hill told me. There’s something you need to see.”

Phil sits her down at the table, and opens up the laptop there.

“You wanted to know who was in charge of Project Tahiti? This is what I found out,” he says, standing up straight and looking at her.

Melinda presses play, and her heart stops when her own face pops up on the video. She watches the entire thing, the sound of her voice somehow foreign to her ears- no memory of the words being spoken in her head.

A mortally wounded _Avenger_.

The phrase sticks in her brain, and she can’t unhear it. Carter had used protocol on her that had been designed for the _Avengers_.

“Well that’s. Something,” she says as she shuts the laptop. Phil’s hand tentatively touches her shoulder, and she immediately slid her hand over his, gripping tightly.

“So I guess you’re technically an Avenger now,” Phil’s voice carries a hint of teasing in it, and Melinda lets out the smallest laugh, turning to press her cheek to his knuckles briefly.

“Where did you go?” she asks once Phil sinks into the chair beside hers. He rubs the back of his neck, sitting back in the chair.

“Saw my mom,” he tells her, and Melinda lifts an eyebrow. “She says hi.”

“Sure she does,” Melinda scoffs, and it draws a smile from her partner. Her eyes search his face, finding the same exhaustion she felt. “You look exhausted.”

Phil laughs at that.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve slept,” he admits, and Melinda’s face softens.

“Well, these beds are nicer than a lot of the ones we’ve crashed on before,” she offers; Phil looks at her for a few long heartbeats before he nods, and something eases in her chest at the small, soft smile he gives her.

_

It feels like too much.

 _Director of SHIELD_ keeps echoing around her brain, and the title feels like something she hasn’t earned. Something she doesn’t deserve.

She looks up at the sound of footsteps, and can’t help the smile her lips curl into at the sight of Phil and the bottle of whiskey in his hand, two glasses in the other.

“So, Director,” he teases gently, and Melinda groans, burying her face in her hands.

“God, stop. It already feels like too much,” her voice is muffled by her hands, and Phil nudges her wrist with a glass until she sits up straight, taking it and sipping at the whiskey.

“You’re going to be great,” he tells her, and there’s such bright and genuine belief in his eyes it’s almost too much.

The weight of the last weeks seems to hit all at once, and they both breathe deeply, emptying their glasses simultaneously. Phil refills both their glasses, and Melinda brushes her thumb along the lip of the glass when he hands it back to her.

“They’re going to be okay,” he tells her after a moment, and she looks at him, swallowing against the thickness in her throat.

“Fitz might not wake up,” she whispers, and Phil shakes his head, sitting forward.

“The best doctors are working on him. He’ll be okay. They’re tough kids,” he reminds her, and she can’t help the way her lips quirk upwards.

“I knew you’d like them,” she murmurs, and Phil’s face softens just a touch. “Thank you for coming back. I don’t think I can say that enough.”

“I’m sorry for leaving in the first place,” he replies, and Melinda slowly extends her hand; after a moment, Phil’s hand encompasses hers, and she squeezes gently.

“Everything is going to change,” she says, and Phil’s fingers wrap more tightly around hers.

“We’ll handle it,” he reassures her, and his lips quirk into a small smile. “Together.”

Melinda smiles, allowing the comfort of his hand in hers to push her doubts away.

“I like the sound of that.”


End file.
